


Absence

by Pallalalo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Identity Issues, M/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Protective Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pallalalo/pseuds/Pallalalo
Summary: “Just me?”“Just you.”#After the events of Captain America: Winter Soldier, Bucky breaks free of the control of HYDRA and tries to remember his past. On his footsteps however seem to multiple people who follow him wherever he goes, but he's not sure he's ready to look behind him to see who follows him, friend or foe.Steve just wants his friend back.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Absence

**Author's Note:**

> a lil something something i wrote over the course of...two nights? after i saw Captain America: Winter Soldier. I hate how Bucky's story kind of...disappears after civil war and then in infinity war and endgame has a screentime of 2 seconds (He doesn't but like...) And so I wrote this to get all my frustrations out. I'm not planning on taking this anywhere since I have an ongoing hobbit fanfic that I'm writing (as well as an original project) but if inspiration/frustration strikes again then maybe I'll write more.

_He’s looking at you._

Bucky Barnes looked away, turning his body away from the possible threat. 

_He’s not looking at you._

Inside the bustling city centre of another metropolitan, there were many places to hide. Sometimes even directly where they wouldn’t think you dared to stand. 

_He’s looking at you._

Usually, his instincts were the only thing he trusted. But when he looked up from the book he had picked up, pretending to shop, the man he was suspicious of had moved on, holding his son’s hand and laughing with his head thrown back. 

_Not a threat._

It had been a year since he pulled Steve Rogers out of the water from the fallen Hellicarrier. It had been a year since he remembered those fateful words. 

_“I’m with you till the end of the line.”_

He shook his head, gripping the book tighter and moving deeper into the store. It was a nice, little bookshop. There was a small woman behind the till with brightly coloured pink hair, minding her own business. There were others, though they pretended not to notice him. Were they staring? He tried to lower his shoulders, an awful tension in his back that caused him to hunch over at all times. 

Clutching the book, he forcefully shoved it back into the shelf, walking out of the shop with more speed than was necessary. 

Eyes everywhere. 

Were they following him? 

Had they seen his arm?

It was impossible to tell. 

What once had been a mindless existence with a single focus had spiralled out of his control. He thought the man on the bridge would have answers. That remembering him would bring answers. But it was like searching blindly in the dark for something you didn’t know you were searching for. 

Going to the Captain America Exhibit had been his next step. Reading about the man, surely, would have offered more memories. When he spotted himself in this exhibit, he had thought that would be it. Read about yourself, remember yourself. 

That’s what he had told himself. 

But it had been like reading about a total stranger. A stranger with his face on. A stranger that had lived a glorious, tragic life, giving his life for a country and its purpose. 

It didn’t feel like him. 

He slowed his speed, taking slow and deliberate steps. He was somewhere deep in southwestern Europe, in a country whose language he had learnt and regurgitated flawlessly. A country in which he had maimed and killed. 

Retracing his steps, then. 

Another hope he had given up on. 

It was everything and nothing, at the same time. 

The men he had known for most of his life were everywhere he went. Their faces were something he could never escape. And neither could he escape the haunted look Steve Rogers had given him a year ago. 

It was summer again. Hot and sunny, he had no choice but to cover up nonetheless. With a plaid button down thrown over a tank top, he aimed for a casual appearance. His hair tied back, with sunglasses and a beard covering his face, he knew, logically, he would mostly blend in well. 

Why then was he so on edge?

There was something he was missing. A pair of eyes, a camera, something had spotted him, something _knows_ him. 

Diverting his planned course, he split from the main crowd and into one of the many alleyways that were slung throughout the city centre. Maybe it was nothing. He couldn’t trust his body anymore, the way he used to. 

When he had been a machine, he knew to trust his body. 

When he had been a machine, he had been forced to kill. 

Going through alleyway after alleyway, with no real map of the city, he was simply aiming to confuse or leave behind any kind of pursuer. He knew that Steve Rogers was after him, that many governments were after him. 

It was only a matter of time before one would show up. 

He knew he could rely on his instincts when he noticed a man had followed him the entire time. He didn’t think it was to do with Steve Rogers, he couldn’t be sure. 

Would he even want Steve Rogers to find him?

Would he want to be confronted with memories that he couldn’t remember?

Catching on, the man behind him sped up. Bucky, however, really couldn’t afford a fight right now. Not only would it ask for attention he didn’t want, he didn’t want to risk injury to his left arm; he would have no way of fixing it. He was already in enough pain as it was. 

He dodged out of another alley way, back into the main crowd and disappeared easily between the bodies of tourists and locals. This was natural. 

He caught a glimpse of his pursuer. 

The man had dark skin, with short, dark hair and a brown leather jacket. His sunglasses were red-tinted and pressed around his eyes, presumably connecting behind his ears. 

It had been the man whose wings he had ripped off. 

_Sam Wilson_. 

And where Sam Wilson was, Steve Rogers wasn’t far behind. 

  
  
  


#

  
  


It wasn’t the Ritz Carlton. That was for sure. He had scouted places to stay, apartments that stood empty or whose owners had left and wouldn’t come back for a while. Businessmen, who left for work, but were not paid enough to have someone take care of their homes while they were out. 

It offered a small reprise. 

After searching the apartment up and down for anything that could track or recognize him, he settled on the floor of the bathroom. His left arm was both his strongest and weakest asset. A form of strength from outdated technology, Steve had so easily disabled his arm. 

After a burning hot shower, he used the night to wash his clothes, putting on his back up outfit. He didn’t know what his pursuers would think he looked like, didn’t know what they were searching for.

Were they searching for a raggedy man with dirt on his face? Were they looking for well-groomed men with prosthetic arms?

He knew he had to be careful not to leave a trace of himself in this apartment. The shower had already been risky enough. He snooped around the kitchen, careful to eat little by little, not too much of anything. 

Had Sam followed him?

The constant questioning was weighing on him, and he knew, if anyone was watching him, he’d look skittish and afraid. He was gripped with panic, walking to the front door and looking through the peephole. 

No one. 

But he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

Silence. 

He was safe for the night, he hoped. Curling up on the couch in the dark, he waited for a sign. A noise. Anything. 

But there wasn’t anything and he fell asleep after a couple of hours. 

The dreams that plagued him were nothing he was surprised at. Memories, twisted and contorted into sick, dark movements. Taunting him, haunting him. 

He woke as he always did; gasping, with a knife in his hand, and sitting up, ready to kill anyone that got too close. 

But no one did. 

He collected his drying clothes, folding them neatly into his backpack, filling up his water bottles, and that was it for this apartment. He couldn’t linger. There had been nothing in this city that helped him, thus he had to leave. 

  
  


#

It was a simple routine he fell in. 

Trace his past back to a particular city, search for any hints of himself. Find an empty, furnished apartment to spend the night in. Wash, clean, eat. 

Avoid. 

It went like this for months. 

He spotted Sam several times for months, and months. No sign of Steve. 

It wasn’t until much later that he found out why. Another world-ending disaster stopped by the Avengers, this time in Sokovia. 

Seeing Steve Rogers’ picture in every place he went to caused many emotions to surface in him. Emotions he had buried deep inside, so far deep in his consciousness that he didn’t know they existed. It made him worry, these feelings. He didn’t recognize them; he couldn’t place them. 

It was like this though, that he fell out of his routine and into recklessness. 

It was like this that Sam finally caught him. 

Backed into a corner, his backpack was digging into his back as he was pressed against a wall. Sam, arms crossed, with his wings tucked into his jetpack, shook his head. 

“You’re a difficult man to pin down, Barnes.”

Bucky sighed, lowering his backpack to the ground. He had been foolish and careless, letting himself get backed into a dead-end this way. It was the beginning of December, now. Sam had followed him all the way to the city of Novgorod. It was snowing heavily, and they were both covered in thick parkas with snow boots. 

Not a place meant to fight. 

Nonetheless, he squared back his shoulders, rolling them slowly. It had been a while since he fought, though the serum kept him ready to fight. 

“Not gonna say anything? Do you even know who I am?” Sam Wilson huffed, uncrossing his arms and taking a step closer. 

Bucky narrowed his eyes, frowning. 

“Your name is Sam Wilson.” Was that what the man wanted? 

Sam grinned, nodding to himself. Well, mostly to himself. “That’s me. Do you remember who Steve Rogers is?” His grin slipped slightly from his face. 

Bucky looked away from him, sliding along the wall slowly. Too slowly for Sam to notice. “Of course I know who Captain America is.” 

That was the most he had spoken in the year and a half that he had been running. 

“Yes. But do you know who _Steve_ is?” Sam pressed the matter, walking faster than Bucky was moving. 

Bucky spoke no words, instead he jumped from where he had been edging along the wall, knocking Sam down to the ground. He rolled over the man, grabbing his backpack, and took off running. 

The way Sam had phrased that question bothered him. Bucky didn’t know who _Steve_ was. And if the heartache was anything to go by whenever he thought of Steve Rogers, he didn’t want to know who he was. 

Sam landed ahead of him, guns raised and a deep frown on his face. “I had hoped you would react differently. He did, too.” But that didn’t slow Bucky down, in fact, it gave him renewed energy. 

He took off on a high jump, reaching for Sam’s guns, grabbed his wrists in the last second, and brought the falcon down with him. Sam groaned, the impact of the ground shaking through his body, and Bucky felt bad. For a split second. 

Grabbing his guns, he stood back, raising them. 

“You’re in my way.” was all he said, his voice rough from disuse. 

“Where are you even going, man? Your route is all over the place. Sofia, Bucharest, Belgrade, Košice, Krákow, Minsk, and now Veliky Novgorod? You’re running out of places to avoid us. To avoid him. He’s only trying to help.” Sam groaned, panting weakly, and slowly getting back up. The jetpack must have bruised his back when Bucky slammed him into the ground. 

Bucky lowered the guns, taking out the ammunition quickly, and cleared each chamber. “That’s none of your business. It’s also none of _his_ business.” He growled, pocketing the magazines, dropping the unloaded guns into the snow. 

Sam watched him with a frown, shaking his head. “There aren’t many guys who would follow you to the edge of the world, where it seems that you’re headed.”

A ghost of a smile crossed Bucky’s face, “What are you talking about? I have a whole boat full after me.” 

Sam’s eyes widened, and he pointed at him, incredulous at the prospect of the world’s most secret assassin joking. “You- please, just meet with him. He is desperate to see you. He doesn’t want me telling you, keeps sending me after you, just please. But put him out of his misery. Put _me_ out of this misery.”

Bucky hesitated, looking away. 

_No_.

He shouldn’t have looked away. When he exposed his neck, it was when Sam struck. Not with a gun filled with bullets; a gun with a tranquilizer dart. 

Bucky growled, his temper flaring with a sudden pounding in the back of his head. He ripped out the dart quickly, going after Sam, who had taken off again. 

“I’m sorry, man.” Sam simply mouthed before shooting him again, this time, he was less careful, and a second later, Bucky felt a dart in his cheek. Before he could jump up and tear the man out of the sky though, the effects of the tranquilizer affected him. 

Something he thought impossible. The serum should have taken care of that. 

His movements slowed, his left side was suddenly unbearable to carry anymore, and he fell to the floor with so much weight that the snow beneath him bounced away. Sam landed in front of him with a tired smile. 

“This is for the best.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_“_ **_Желание_ ** _.”_

_Flashes of blue haunted him, hands reaching out for him. He could only find bones in return. Deep water, somewhere, his head was covered. Noises, noises, everywhere he went._

_“_ **_Семнадцать_ ** _.”_

_It was more difficult to breathe, more difficult to live. His head was thrown back, out of the water now. His hands were covered, in something tight and red. Gloves, thick and heavy. A belt somewhere. Someone was shouting his name, loud and proud._

_“_ **_Ржавый_ ** _.”_

_Aching suddenly filled him, every part of his body was burning. Not burning. Rusting. His movements slowed until he stopped, unable to move his arm at all, the metal rusted and burnt. Useless. He was useless._

_“_ **_Рассвет_ ** _.”_

_Orange flooded his sight, the pale blue ebbed away; hiding from the bright colours. It filled him, filled everything around him. There was someone else next to him but he couldn’t look. He couldn’t see who it was, who was grabbing his hands._

_“_ **_Печь_ ** _.”_

_The ground underneath him was ripped away, and he was falling. Something caught his arm, and he was dangling. Looking up, he saw glasses. A small face of a small man. He growled in pain and anger. He knew that face._

_“_ **_Девять_ ** _.”_

_It was the first time he heard a voice, though he still couldn’t hear the words. Mumbled, silenced. Behind the small face, a monster rose. Instead of the comforting orange or the pale blue, there was only a pale light. It was so bright, it was blinding him. The monster rose with the light, its nine heads roaring and rearing to stare at him. It opened its mouths and roared at him, fire filling the air and he couldn’t lift his arms to protect himself._

_“_ **_Добросердечный_ ** _.”_

_But there it was again; a flickering of pale blue in front of him, protecting him from the fire. He fell to his knees, sobbing with relief._

_“_ **_Возвращение на родину_ ** _.”_

_Everything fell away. The monster dropped, falling until Bucky couldn’t see it anymore. Places surrounded him, but he couldn’t tell where they were. A rusted staircase, leading to a door in a brickhouse apartment. He walked the stairs hesitantly, it became more and more familiar. He was about to open the door when he heard another voice._

_“_ **_Один_ ** _.”_

_He turned around, reaching out for the pale, warm blue that had followed him. Instead, he faced himself. But it wasn’t himself- it was the Winter Soldier. And another Winter Soldier. And Another. Behind him, there must have been hundreds and hundreds. The black sunglasses, the black mask, the black jacket that had constricted him so. This was what it all led back to._

_“_ **_Товарный-_ ** _”_

“-wasn’t always like this.” A comforting male voice filled the room. Bucky shifted as quietly and slowly as he could, getting a feel of his body without attracting attention. Memories, memories. The last thing he remembered was Sam Wilson. Sam Wilson who shot him with tranquilizers. 

“He must have been a hell of a friend for you to follow me.” Said Sam Wilson, whose voice Bucky instantly recognized. Whose voice instantly filled him with anger and resentment. 

“He was more than a friend.” The comforting male voice said in return. _Steve Rogers_. Bucky stopped shifting, laying incredibly still again, breathing in and out as calmly as he had been. Where had they taken him? 

“Steve, you should go take care of yourself. Have some lunch, have a shower. You don’t want the first thing he sees to be a starving, slightly smelly Steve Rogers.” Sam joked slightly, though there was concern evident in his voice. 

He only got a deep sigh in response. 

“Please. Do it for me, at least. I’ll stay and watch him. When he wakes, you’ll be the first one I tell.” Sam promised. 

This seemed to convince Steve, who simply sighed again but stood up from his chair and walked to the door. “Thank you, Sam.” He said quietly and left, shutting the door ever so softly behind him. 

Sam exhaled shakily, though that was all the noise Bucky could hear. He counted the time in his head. It was exactly 17 minutes and 54 seconds before Sam cracked. 

“I really need to go to the bathroom. You better not wake up while I’m gone and disappear again. I swear to god.” Sam had leaned into Bucky’s face, he must have been frowning, but he left quickly.

As soon as Bucky heard the door click, he opened his eyes slowly. A white, sterile room greeted him with empty chairs on either side of him. His bed was in the middle of the room with a door opposite him, glass windows on either side of the door, though the shutters were closed. 

He slowly stood up, stretching his neck and back. He didn’t feel any grogginess. The serum must have taken care of the tranquilizer. He wasn’t wearing his own clothes anymore, and he couldn’t spot his backpack anywhere in the room. This caused his heart to skip a beat in panic and he stood up quickly, clenching his fists.

It wasn’t like the Winter Soldier to get attached to clothing. But in all this time of hiding and running, it was the only constant in his life, the only thing he had to his name. And it was gone. Instead, he was wearing soft grey socks, softer grey sweatpants and a simple, grey tank top. 

He took a deep breath, trying to calm his heart. He only had a short time to escape the room, and escape wherever he was before Sam -and Steve- would notice. 

Edging to the windows, he peered through the shutters. An empty corridor stretched out in front of him, though he had absolutely no idea where he was. He opened the door as quietly as he could, staying close to the walls, and walking with a quiet speed.

The corridors stretched out, doors scattered here and there. He finally reached the edge of the corridors, a big, great hall that opened up to him with the walls covered in windows. 

“Bucky!” A voice cried out behind him and he jumped into action, running as fast as he could towards the windows, and throwing himself through them. He landed with a grunt but he could hear footsteps come up behind him, so he forced himself to stand up and continue running. 

“Bucky- please-” Steve Rogers appeared behind him, his voice was a pleading call. It made Bucky stop in his steps and turn around. He wasn’t prepared for the pale blue of his eyes, nor the look on his face. 

“Please stay.” Steve whispered, reaching out towards him, and taking slowly steps over the glass. 

Bucky growled, clenching his fists angrily. More and more feelings were bubbling up at the sight of Steve, at the sounds of his voice. They were all painful, wracking his brain, and tearing his heart apart. 

“I don’t know you.” He shouted, gripping his hair in frustration. Tears even formed in his eyes. 

“You do. Yes, you do.” Steve whispered, never lowering his hand. “We grew up together.”

“No, we didn’t.” Bucky stepped back in accordance with the man in front of him. He chose to focus on the anger inside him; the easiest to understand and the easiest to express. 

“I know you know. The Howling Commandos.” Steve continued, stubborn. Bucky guessed it was his most prominent trait. “We were in the train, that stupid _freight car-_ ”

_“Товарный вагон.”_ A voice somewhere deep in his head reminded him. Bucky’s eyes went hollow for a second, his body shifting into position. Instead of the hesitant, cowardly pose, he squared his shoulders, lowering his hands, and shifting his feet to take a powerful stance. 

Steve must have realized his mistake instantly, shaking his head, pleading again. “No- Bucky, please, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” There were voices behind Steve now, people rushing out to see what was happening. The Winter Soldier knew this was a matter of life and death. 

His top priority was to escape his enemies and receive a mission. 

Steve reached for him, grabbing his arm before Bucky could move and there was nothing Bucky could do to stop himself from shoving the other man roughly away, kicking him in his stomach to clear some distance between the two of them. 

As soon as Steve had fallen away, he turned, and took off into the direction of the forest he spotted. It was his best chance at evasion and hiding that he had. 

He didn’t get far though before Steve tackled him to the floor, pinning his hands to the ground. “Bucky, come back to me.” The man whispered. 

Bucky simply growled in response, throwing his head back into Steve’s face and knocking him off of himself, using the momentum to pin Steve to the floor. 

“You’re wasting your time.” He hissed, fury raging in his eyes. He jumped back, ready to take off again though now he was completely surrounded. 

In front of him, in the sky were both Iron Man and Sam Wilson, iconic in their suits. Behind him was Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton; shield agents he knew well. There were other agents, surrounding him, weapons pointed at him. 

“Barnes, you better give up now, and head back into the nice building you broke through now.” The voice from the Iron Man suit rang. Shaky, almost. Bucky narrowed his eyes as he studied the suit, ignoring everyone else. 

Steve got up, hands reaching for Bucky though Bucky was simply focused on the suit hovering in front of him. Familiar, familiar. 

Tony Stark. That was the name of Iron Man. _Stark_. 

Bucky’s eyes widened, something breaking in the back of his mind. He groaned, clutching his hands over his ears as the Winter Soldier fought to reclaim control. He fell to his knees, trying to keep his eyes on the Iron Man suit. 

Howard Stark, and his wife. Maria Stark. 

_December 16th 1991_. 

“-cky, please, come back inside.” Steve was whispering next to him, his warm hands rubbing circles into his back. Suddenly the touch was burning instead of warm and comforting and he stumbled away from him. 

“Please- why won’t you leave me alone?” Bucky gasped, tears threatening to form in his eyes. There was so much pain buried beneath the surface of his mind, too much to think about, too many memories of death. 

“Don’t answer that.” Bucky breathed, shaking his head. He knew he had an audience, an audience that was heavily armed and would pose a great threat to him. He weighed his options, was it worth it to get into a fight simply to get injured? There was no way to escape. 

No way to escape.

Steve reached again for him, so damn caring for a stranger who kept rejecting him. He grit his teeth together, tearing his gaze away from Tony Stark, and into Steve’s eyes. 

“You’re such a punk!” He burst out in anger, yelling at the other man in determined anger. Instead of reacting the way Bucky thought he would, Steve just burst out laughing with tears in his eyes. 

“And you’re a Jerk.” He said quietly. He said it with such meaning, that Bucky stumbled back, frowning at him. There was a memory pulling at him, tugging at him now. 

“N-no. No! No, don’t do this to me!” Bucky hissed, backing away from Steve. The memory was so powerful it threatened to swallow him whole. He was back to clutching his hands to his face, only able to express his anger in spat pleas. 

“Bucky, it’s okay. It’ll be okay. Just take a deep breath, let yourself remember.” Steve whispered, the personification of his sun, begging him to come back to him. 

There were voices around them, warning Steve to stay back. 

They were right to do so. 

Bucky would have loved to give it up; to let the memories wash over him if it meant he could bring a smile to Steve’s face. But the pain and the anger was too much, there was too much hate in his heart, eating him from the inside out, wielding words like they were weapons. 

“Вы ничего не знаете!” Bucky cried out, his metal arm whirring as he prepared to fight his way out. He wasn’t ready for this, there was no way he could do this. There was no way for him to come out of this alive. 

He sensed her punch before she even moved, the Black Widow stepping forward. A remnant of his past, alive and well. 

“Ты даже себя не знаешь!” She whispered as he grabbed her arm and was about to slam her to the ground over his shoulder when she kicked him in the back of his knees, bringing him to the ground. 

“Natasha-” Steve’s voice sounded panicked. 

But Bucky couldn’t focus on him at all, narrowing in on her words. 

“Теперь ты понял.” He answered her, digging his metal fingers into her flesh and bringing her to his front, sliding his arms around her neck but before he could finish her with a snap of her neck, he felt darts in his skin again. 

There must have been dozens. 

Natasha used his sudden sluggish movements against him, grabbing him by his wrists, and brought him over her shoulder and to the ground. 

“Я понимаю лучше, чем вы думаете.” She hissed. There was a quiet fury in her eyes, a rough violence that he could relate to. It was the first time he saw this in anyone else’s eyes. Different from the pleading hope from Steve Rogers, different from the incredulousness of Sam Wilson who had become exasperated with the hunt. 

These were the eyes of someone who knew he should be killed, rather than be let to live. 

These were the eyes of someone who saw the pain of the Winter Soldier inside James Buchanan Barnes. 

* * *

  
  
  


There were no dreams this time. If he did dream, he didn’t remember a thing. 

When he awoke a second time, there were restraints on his body. Each wrist was pinned to the bed, as well as his feet. Awaking again was much easier, his body snapping into a hyper aware state. 

Giving experimental tugs on each strap he found that they were sufficient in pinning him to the bed. Escape would be much more difficult this time around. 

Footsteps came towards his room, there must be more than one person about to watch him. Question him again. His head was a muddle of languages, mostly english and russian thoughts, though it was difficult to differentiate between himself and the Soldier. 

Tugging at the restraints, he tried to sit up slightly when the door opened. Steve Rogers stood in the doorway. Bucky narrowed his eyes as he filtered in the room, almost shyly. Behind him had been Sam Wilson and Natasha Romanoff, both less shy and more neutral. Another man behind them filtered in, sitting down next to Steve. 

None of them spoke a word. 

Bucky ignored them all, staring straight ahead at the door. 

Maybe if he stared enough, he could will himself to fly through the door in front of him. 

“Bucky. We’re not going to hurt you.” Steve finally said, the tension was incredibly thick. Awkward. 

Bucky didn’t respond, simply staring straight ahead. 

Steve tried again, “I’m sorry about the tranquilizer guns. They weren’t my idea.” 

The door opened again and Bucky moved as if he was going to jump out of the room. Just to see how they would react. 

Black Widow, who had leant against the windowed wall with arms crossed, jumped into action, pulling out two small handguns out of nowhere, aiming for Bucky’s chest. 

Sam Wilson, too, reacted quickly, though with not the same speed. He, too, held two guns to Bucky, though his stance was less confident than hers. 

Steve sighed, frowning deeply. “Those weren’t my idea, either.”

A nurse appeared in the doorframe, glaring at the two people holding guns and brought forward a tray, with a sandwich and a water bottle on top. 

Wordlessly, she walked past them and set the tray down next to Bucky’s body. 

“Are you hungry? You must be starving. Unfortunately, you’ve been deemed a flight risk. So I’m going to feed you your sandwich.” She looked at him expectantly and he simply nodded, opening his mouth. 

Steve, meanwhile, was trying to placate Bucky while Sam pocketed his guns, sitting down on the other side of Bucky’s bed. Natasha, though she lowered her guns, didn’t let them go. The nurse fed Bucky slowly, throughout this tension. 

When Bucky had finished eating, he turned to Steve with, what he hoped would appear as, a calm and neutral face. 

“Am I a prisoner here?” 

The answers came all at the same time. 

“No!” Steve gasped, horrified at the question. 

“Yes.” Natasha said blankly. 

“Of course you are.” Sam frowned. 

The man who Bucky didn’t know finally spoke, “The situation is more difficult than that.”

Bucky focused on him, raising his eyebrows. 

The man smiled softly, “I’m Doctor Pérez. Not a medical doctor, but I specify in psychology. I was hoping I could talk to you more privately than this but they all insisted they be here when we talk.”

“Well, Doctor Pérez, I have been deemed a very dangerous individual. It’s probably wise for your safety.” Bucky said, aiming for a neutral tone but he couldn’t stop the anger from pouring into his voice. He clenched his fists, struggling with the straps but laid down again.

“Yes, you have. You are, I think, the single most complicated case I have ever heard of.” Doctor Pérez said, leaning forward. He didn’t have any sort of notepad in his hands, his eyes simply focused on Bucky. 

It unnerved him. 

Pérez continued, “I really would love to be able to get my own psychological profile of you. If you feel up for it, of course. I can understand this is a very stressful situation.”

Bucky’s eyes flitted from every person present in this room, from Steve to the Doctor to Natasha to Sam to the Nurse. He leant up, his body constricted in an uncomfortable way though he leant his head back, looking at the Doctor with narrowed eyes. The nurse sighed, taking the try with her and leaving the room. 

“It doesn’t matter. There is no situation left for me where there is no stress.” Bucky hissed, the fight all of a sudden drained out of him. What was going to happen to him? “It doesn’t matter.”

Steve let out a shaky breath, reaching forward to touch Bucky’s clenched fists. There was no space to move but Bucky pulled back his fists as much as he could. 

“That’s not true, Buck. If you want, Natasha and Sam can leave. It’ll just be me and the Doc.” He whispered. 

Natasha and Sam instantly glared at Steve, standing a little more firm. 

“Let’s just take one step in front of the other.” Doctor Pérez tried to soothe the atmosphere out. “I have the psychological profile of Shield available as well as Hydra. But between each extreme, there is a person, and I would like to know more about the person. Do you know your name?”

“James Buchanan Barnes. I am called Bucky.” He spoke softly, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

“That’s good. Do you know your own date of birth?” Doctor Pérez. 

“10th March, 1917.” Bucky recited. It wasn’t that he remembered celebrating the day. He simply remembered it from his own part in the Captain America exhibit. 

“Do you remember celebrating this day?” Doctor Pérez continued. 

Bucky simply shook his head. 

“Right. Do you remember your parents? Their names?” 

Bucky looked up, frowning softly. “Winnifred and George.” He remembered details. Painless. His mother’s hair colour. His father’s eyes. They were swimming in his brain, inviting him deeper and deeper. 

Steve looked at him with such hopeful eyes, it made Bucky nervous. What did he expect of him?

“Do you remember the day you enlisted?” Doctor Pérez continued, simply observing Bucky and his reactions. Bucky looked away again, trying to remember anything. There was a feeling of yearning. A sense of pride. But there was also fear. But not for himself. He had been terrified, he had left something behind. 

He had left some _one_ behind. 

He looked at Steve suddenly with deep concentration, furrowing his eyebrows and his mouth twisted in anger. There it was again, deep reluctance to the pain he felt inside him. The pain that showed him flashes of a life lived, a life feared. It shook him to his core, but he couldn’t do anything but reject it or else it would burn him alive. 

“No, I don’t.” He hissed out behind grit teeth. 

Steve’s puppy dog eyes dropped in fear, he grabbed Bucky’s hand now, and Bucky’s eyes flicked down between their hands and his eyes. 

“You looked- you looked like you did. For a second.” Steve said quietly. “Do you remember the Stark Expo? You invited Connie, who brought her friend Bonnie?” 

Bucky shook his head, shaking slightly now. “No. I said I don’t remember.” He panted weakly, trying to suppress the memory. 

“I left you with them, and you went dancing. Do you remember where I went?” Steve pressed though Doctor Pérez warned him, trying to pull Steve back. 

Bucky yanked at the restraints again, desperate to pull his hand away from the burning touch. Inside his head, there were a million images, threatening to drown him in a wave. “No! I don’t remember-” He yelled, his voice raising with the panic he was trying so desperately to cover. 

“Yes, you do- I know you do-” Steve tried, now standing and reaching forward to touch Bucky’s shoulders. 

Wrong move. 

“What do you care? I told you to leave me alone!” Bucky yelled into Steve’s face, his expression twisted in anger. “I told you to leave me behind!” There were tears now, slowly pouring down his cheeks as Steve held Bucky’s shoulders, tenderly. The touch was so soft, so unfamiliar, all Bucky wanted to do was lash out and cry. “I didn’t want you to find me!”

There was deep silence, except for Bucky’s soft sobs. Steve’s touch was comforting in a way which Bucky had yearned for, for years. After decades of only murder and cold, his body reacted against his will, leaning into the touch. 

It was the first time someone had touched him without a touch of violence. 

Steve’s eyes became blurred, tears slipping past his defenses too. 

“Bucky, please. Please remember me.” 

He shook his head again, though this time his body was frozen in fear. Frozen, in shame. “No, no, no! No! It’s too much- there’s too much-” He gasped, closing his eyes to escape those big blue eyes. “I can’t do it- I won’t go back! I won’t go back there!” 

Steve pulled him into a soft hug, a hand had crept up behind his head, cradling it, and the other was slung around his waist. “It’s okay, I’m here for you. I’m here. You’re not alone. You don’t have to do this by yourself.” 

They must have made quite the picture. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me- you don’t know me like this-” Bucky sobbed into his shoulder, his wrists still restrained against the bed. “You don’t know what it’s like!” 

“No, no, I don’t. I will never know what it’s like. But no one is going to hurt you, I won’t let anyone hurt you, ever again.” Steve said the last two words with such finality that Bucky couldn’t respond to him anymore, simply letting himself cry out his pain and anger. 

Steve continued to hold him, shielding him from the eyes of their guests, simply rubbing his hands along the cradle of his neck, whispering sweet nothings. 

That’s what they must be. 

  
Steve Rogers won’t be able to protect him. 

There were too many people after him, too many governments. 

He had killed too many people, had damaged history in such a way he will never be able to take back. 

Bucky stopped crying after a while, tugging himself away from the hug. Was this what he had needed? Someone to hold him? 

Steve sat back down, though he kept a hand on Bucky at all times, his hands curled around Bucky’s hand. 

“I think that might be enough for today. There is no rush, Bucky.” Doctor Pérez said suddenly, standing up. He looked at Bucky with a different look now, as if what he had seen had changed his mind. “I think it best if Agent Romanoff, Sergeant Wilson, and I leave you two alone now.”

Natasha and Sam looked like they were about to protest but Doctor Pérez simply held up a single hand, “I really recommend it.” Natasha gave Bucky one last look then left quickly, guns still in her hand. Sam, too, stood up and left without a word. 

“Don’t take too long though. Don’t push it all in one day.” Doctor Pérez said before closing the door behind him. 

Steve turned back to Bucky, with teary eyes again. He wiped them from his own cheeks, before leaning in and wiping the tears off of Bucky’s cheeks. 

The touch caused Bucky to inhale sharply, the touch felt electric. 

“I’ve missed you so much, Buck.” Steve whispered, just holding Bucky’s face with one hand. “I thought- I wasn’t sure- but you’re here now. That’s all that matters. You matter so much to me.”

Bucky looked down at the hand on his face and back up to Steve, frowning. He felt pathetic. “Is it cause I’m the only other tie to your old life than Peggy Carter?” he whispered, afraid of the answer. It had been something in the back of his mind ever since he discovered that Captain America exhibit. It was only him and Peggy Carter left in the world, from Steve Rogers’ old life. 

Steve shook his head, “No.” he said firmly. “I thought I’d lost you forever. You probably don’t remember. When I saw you that first time in D.C., I thought my heart was going to slip out from my chest.”

Bucky looked away now, pulling away from Steve’s touch. 

“Steve-”

“I’m asking too much of you.” Steve sighed, letting his hand drop from Bucky’s face. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to be left alone. And I really was against the tranq guns. I didn’t want to bring you in that way. I was hoping you’d want to come with us, of your own volition. And when you didn’t, I became more and more stubborn. I couldn’t live with myself, knowing you were out there somewhere and couldn’t remember me.” The man confessed. Bucky sighed softly, but this time he turned his hand around so they were holding each other’s hands. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to remember you. I want to.” Bucky whispered, his voice so quiet he wasn’t sure if Steve had heard him. 

He could tell Steve was smiling at him, the radiance of his smile was quite literally warming him. Or maybe it was a blush creeping up on him, heating his cheeks. 

“Sometimes I’m not sure what’s a memory and what’s a dream. It hurts too much to think about. If I go too deep, I’m not sure if I’m ever going to resurface.” Bucky turned back to face Steve, only to find him sitting down on the bed next to him, his face impossibly close. 

It made his heart skip a beat. 

  
  


Steve looked like he wanted to cry, sniffling softly. “Can I-” he paused, lifting his hands. “Can I touch you?”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, holding his breath. He nodded once, barely. 

Steve lifted his hands and reached for his face again. He brought their heads together, leaning their foreheads against another. Steve’s nose brushed against his own and Bucky kept his eyes open, hesitant and shy. Steve didn’t care, his eyes were closed, this touch meaning more for Bucky than he could ever understand. 

“We’ll figure a way out. Together.”

Bucky had his doubts. But maybe he should allow himself to hope.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


It was a weird couple of days. They didn’t let him leave the room for a while, restricting his movements greatly to his bedroom and the bathroom next door. He met with Doctor Pérez and Steve every day for a while, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. 

It was Bucky’s fault. 

He knew this. 

The two men were so hopeful that he could recover. So hopeful that the memories would just take over as soon as he tried, that it would go all well. 

It was suffocating, to have both men so optimistic when it wasn’t them who was going through so much pain to remember. Today, he had lost his temper. It was the was Steve kept looking at him with hopeful, puppy eyes and soft, reassuring murmurs. 

He might have lost it a little. 

It didn’t matter. He was on the floor of the shower, letting the hot water pour over him. His left arm was whirring noisily as he pulled it around himself. It had started to hurt yesterday, a dull ache whenever he moved. He should have said something, should have asked for help. But he wasn’t ready to speak more than he needed to. He wasn’t ready to get comfortable in this environment. 

And so it all had built up. He wasn’t sure what he had said, which words he had used against Steve and Pérez, just knew that they had left with disappointed, sad faces. 

He looked up, letting the water pour over his face and let out a shaky breath. Had he even been speaking english? Or had he been yelling in russian? He couldn’t remember. 

Eventually, he left the shower. He didn’t have much choice in his clothing, always dressed in soft grey clothing. He missed the colours of his previous outfits, missed the variety of his clothes. Returning to his room, he saw Steve waiting for him in front of the door. 

“Bucky! Hey.” He said when he had spotted him, smiling weakly. 

“Steve.” Bucky said quietly, waiting for the other man to speak. 

“Uh- I have some news for you!” Steve spoke hesitantly, gauging Bucky’s reaction. Probably to see if Bucky was still angry; which would be a fair assumption. 

Bucky raised his eyebrows, “What is it?”

“You’ve been granted total grounds freedom! Doctor Pérez and I talked, and we think you really ought to have the chance to stretch your legs. It can’t be good for you, just to be in one room for so long.” Steve opened his arms, smiling at the news. 

This took Bucky by surprise. “What do the others think? I assume there’s many others who live here who don’t want a murderer to walk freely around.” He said, the cold neutrality he had mastered so easily very evident in his voice. 

Steve flinched at the word ‘murderer’, shaking his head. “Everyone here has done stuff they regret. It wasn’t your choice, Bucky.”

“So they don’t. How’d you manage to convince them?” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, knowing he wasn’t welcome. They did it for Steve’s sake. He wasn’t even allowed shoes. 

“I didn’t have to do anything.” Steve sighed, looking away, scratching the back of his head. 

“Have you always been such a bad liar?” Bucky turned around. If he was allowed out of his room, he was taking his chance to scout out the entire building. Test the limits, test the boundaries. Where was he allowed? What could he do? Where were the blind spots? How, if needed, could he escape?

Steve followed instantly, walking next to him, though he didn’t respond to Bucky’s question. Bucky really should apologize for his outburst earlier. What was the emotion in the pit of his stomach, heating his face whenever he looked at Steve? Was it shame?

“Do you want me to show you around? I could show you the screening room, the gym, the pool, the shooting range- although you won’t be allowed in the shooting range. Yet!” Steve suggested, trailing next to Bucky. 

“Where else am I not allowed to go?” Bucky asked as they rounded a corner and came into the living room area. Thankfully, there was no one else there. 

“You’re not allowed in people’s rooms. But that’s more of a general rule, not specific to you. Unless that person invites you into their room. Tony has a workshop here, actually, and he wanted to see you in there soon. Not today, I think next week though.” Steve said, frowning at the last thing. 

“Why does Stark want to see me in his workshop?” Bucky frowned, holding his metal arm close to his body. He walked through the living room area, into the kitchen. They had brought him food, three times a day. 

“He wants to help you with your arm.” is all Steve said. Bucky turned around and his face must have been too angry, because Steve took a step back, holding his hands back. “He does.”

“That’s a lot to do as a favour.” Bucky relaxed his face, rolling his shoulders back, and turned to the fridge. 

“A favour? What do you mean?” Steve asked, leaning against the counter. 

“This all is obviously done as a favour to you. Why else would Tony Stark give aid to the man who killed his parents?” Bucky hissed at Steve, snapping the fridge shut. 

Steve stared at him, then shook his head, reaching out to touch Bucky. Steve was big on physical affection. This was mostly welcome, though it could also be suffocating. 

“You remember that?” Steve asked softly. “What else do you remember?” He grabbed onto Bucky’s shoulders, bringing him closer to him. 

“Answer my question, Steve. Why would Tony Stark want to help me?” Bucky bit out, trying to stay relaxed though it was more and more difficult to be calm. 

Steve’s eyes became even more softer, which was not something Bucky thought was possible. 

“He knows it wasn’t your fault. He knows it was Hydra’s fault. Tony and I had never been great friends, but I knew he was a smart guy. He knows a little something about kidnapping and trauma. He needed a couple of days, but he was so glad I told him and he wanted to help. He knows how much you mean to me. In this, Tony Stark did not disappoint.” Steve smiled softly. He spoke with such importance, it was difficult not to be pulled in. 

Bucky simply nodded, unable to form words in response. Tony Stark didn’t blame him for the death of his parents. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers, his arm made small noises as he did. It was a distant memory, but he remembered the woman’s last words. 

Would it hurt Tony to know? 

Would Tony still want to help him?

“If you give me a list of foods that you want, I can get them for you. You’re not allowed off the premises, yet, but I can get anything you need.” Steve let go of Bucky’s shoulders, offering another soft smile. 

“Plums.” Bucky whispered. “I like plums.” 

“Yes, you do.” Steve smiled brighter this time. “Let me show you the rest of the Compound.”

“Compound?”

“Yeah. You’re in the Avengers Compound.” Steve raised his arms, as if to show off the building. 

“I thought Iron Man had left the Avengers after Sokovia.” Bucky continued walking, out of the kitchen. 

“You- you heard about that, did you?” Steve chuckled weakly, scratching the back of his neck again. 

“I kept up on the news, yes. World-threatening events tend to be announced everywhere.” Bucky sighed. 

“It was a rough time for all of us. We split up over disagreements and secrets. But once I found you, I knew I had to tell Tony. It wasn’t fair of me to hold that information to myself. He wanted to help. So, we’re trying this out again.” Steve explained as he showed him the pool. Bucky would need more clothes than he had right now, to swim, to work out. 

He shook himself again. This wasn’t permanent. He wasn’t staying here. 

“It’s been nice, oddly enough. I mean Wanda has a tough time acclimating-”

“Wanda? The Girl from Sokovia?” Bucky asked hesitantly. He hadn’t heard much about the girl, but the few things he had heard had him on edge. 

“She’s just a kid, and she’s already been through so much. She lost her twin brother in Sokovia.” Steve shook his head, his mouth turned into a sad, ugly frown. 

  
“Mhm.” Bucky simply commented, nodding along. 

“But she lives here now, with us. She’s got incredible power, she just needs to learn how to control it better.” Steve said, and if Bucky had to guess, he might have heard a sense of pride in Steve’s tone. 

He didn’t like this tone at all. 

Steve continued to show him the rest of the Compound. The gym was filled with different machines, covered in mirrors and stereos everywhere. He showed him the Rehabilitation Room, a smaller room than the Gym though no less filled. It was clearly aimed for physical therapy, and like the name suggested, rehabilitation. Next, Steve showed him the Screening Room, which reminded Bucky vaguely of something from his old life. A cinema, and there were faces flickering in and out. Steve was there, he knew it, though his body was completely different. Instead of the muscled, tall man in front of him, Steve had barely reached his chin, a skinny, little thing. 

He kept this memory to himself. 

The tour concluded with Steve showing him the storage units far from the main building. He showed him the grounds, showed him the fences that surrounded them. Finally, he also introduced him to F.R.I.D.A.Y., the AI that Tony had installed in the Avengers Compound. 

“If you need anything, just ask Friday. She’s great.” Steve concluded the tour, leaning against the wall outside of Bucky’s room. 

“Thank you, Captain Rogers.” The female voice chimed in from above. 

“I assume she will also be tracking me at all times.” Bucky raised a single eyebrow at the ceiling. 

“That is correct, Sergeant Barnes.” The female voice replied. 

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.” Bucky nodded, and was about to open the door when he turned to Steve. “Thank you for showing me around.” He gave him a weak smile. “I’m sorry for yelling earlier. I don’t remember what I said, but I’m sorry. I must have been really cruel.”

Steve smiled in response. “I accept your apology. I understand it’s not an easy time for you. I could probably start giving you some space. Maybe it’ll make things easier. If anyone- and I mean anyone- gives you any trouble, tell me, and I’ll help you.” 

“Thank you, Steve. But I can take care of myself.” 

#

  
  


He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He knew that the other residents were not going to be easy around him. It was a fact of the universe. So, he avoided them. Quite easily. He barely slept, but he knew to assume that the other residents were up at odd times. It worked out that the kitchen would be empty around normal times, which was when he struck and ate his food. Late night workouts were usually joined by Steve. Gradually, Sam joined in, just to watch. 

It was easy to avoid the others. Steve disliked this, made his thoughts known, but Bucky ignored him. It was all he could take right now. 

It was only when Tony Stark appeared by his door, knocking and only entering after Bucky gave his confirmation, that he saw anyone else. 

“Barnes. Come by the workshop tomorrow. I have an itching to get my hands on that arm. I’m betting that that outdated Hydra tech has been aching for some time now.” Tony stated, leaning easily against the door. 

Bucky pressed his lips together but nodded. He wasn’t afraid of speaking. But in this, he trusted his instincts. He wanted Tony to feel in control. 

“Did you tell Steve?” Tony asked suddenly, raising his eyebrows. 

Bucky shook his head. 

“I know you’ve been working out together. Why haven’t you told him?” Tony frowned and held his hands up, gesturing to his arm. Bucky lifted his metal arm, suppressing a wince easily and held it out for Tony to take. 

“He’s got enough to worry about.” Bucky sighed and watched Tony inspect his arm. Tony whistled lowly, mumbling to himself. 

“How’s the therapy going?” Tony asked hesitantly, grimacing at the state of his arm, turning it around and listening to the tired whirring noises. Bucky’s face was as neutral as ever, even though twisting his arm like that ached deeply. 

“It’s fine. Everything’s great.” Bucky suddenly burst out, the guilt of his past sweeping over him and clenching his heart. “You’ve done more for me than you should.”

Tony let go of his arm, leaning away from Bucky now. His face had dropped the jovial expression, nonchalant, and instead he frowned now. 

“It wasn’t your fault.” Tony said quietly. “Hydra took you and mutilated your mind into that of a cold-hearted killer. I’ve been watching you, Barnes, since you’ve arrived.” He looked up at him, and Bucky was surprised to see such determination in Stark’s eyes. “You are not a cold-hearted killer. I see the way you skulk, the way you worry. The looks you send to Steve and when anyone looks at you, the way you wish they didn’t.” Tony put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a sad smile. “It wasn’t your fault.”

As if those words held magic to them, the effect was instantaneous. A weight weighing on his shoulders lifted suddenly and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in a century. He was ashamed to admit that his eyes watered slightly but all he did was nod in response. 

“If there’s a problem, tell someone. I learned the hard way that you don’t need to suffer on your own.” Tony said, a quiet, subdued tone that implied a story behind his words. 

Bucky didn’t ask, and Tony didn’t stay. 

He spent that night in the gym, abusing the punching bag as usual. It wasn’t about releasing anger anymore. His head had been a disorganized mess of thoughts for so long now, it was a relief to know that Tony Stark didn’t blame him for the death of his parents. 

It didn’t stop Bucky from blaming himself, but it was a start. 

“What’d that punching bag ever do to you?” Steve called out suddenly, appearing in the entrance of the gym. 

Bucky stepped around the bag, looking over to his friend. His friend? Best friend?

“I didn’t like the way it was staring at me.” He huffed, giving it a rough kick. He favoured kicks over punches right now. Only until the pain in his arm went away. 

Steve walked over, taking his shirt off as he went to reveal a white tank top underneath. “Mind if I join in?”

Bucky simply shrugged, stepping back, and taking a sip from his water bottle. 

They rotated in silence, hitting the punching bag one after the other. It was relaxing, fighting under Steve’s gaze. With every kick, he felt more and more confident. Had it been anyone else, the nerves would have had him alive. This almost felt as old as time. 

They passed the hours like this, working their way around the gym. Moving on from the punching bag, they set up a circuit course in the middle of the large room. There was no intent behind building muscle or losing fat, it was all about moving in sync with each other, circling ever so closer. 

It went on like this, until the sun started shining through the glass walls, illuminating the room with golden light. 

“There’s this spot up the hill behind the main building. Join me?” Steve grabbed his towel and his water bottle, his shirt laying somewhere in the corner, forgotten. 

Buckz nodded silently, grabbing his own water bottle and following his friend. They walked across the grass, across the field. Bucky spotted the replaced window, the one he’d broken, and subsequently had been stopped again. 

They reached the hill, right by the fence, and sat down on the grass, watching the sun rise in the east. 

“This is a beautiful spot.” Bucky whispered. 

“I haven’t shared it with anyone else. Just you.”

“Just me? Really? What about that blonde agent?” 

“Who, Sharon?” Steve grinned, turning to face his friend now. “We’re friends, but I haven’t done any of this with her.” 

“Just me?”

“Just you.”

They stared into each other’s faces for a while. There was something tender in the way Steve looked at him, as if he was simply holding his breath to really look at Bucky, to make sure he wouldn’t fade away again. It made Bucky uneasy, but he wasn’t sure why. 

“How about I bring us some breakfast? I baked some chocolate croissants earlier, saved you some.” Steve offered, in the same way he does everything else. Assured, easy. It’s the same way he brought him here, with the never-ending conviction that they would always end up together, taking care of each other. 

“That sounds good. I’ll be here.” Bucky nodded and leant back, watching Steve climb down the hill and make his way towards the compound. 

It was a moment of silence, filled with sunlight and fresh air. Bucky could get used to this. He had never thought he could have this, could have a moment like this. 

It was a shame that he was never allowed more than he wanted. 

Hands grabbed him suddenly from behind, a cloth pressed to his face, and though he tried his best to hold his breath and yank himself free, it was too late. He had been too slow, had taken too many seconds to react. 

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

He was on the ground, strangling a man with one hand, while pinning another to the floor next to him with the other hand. His vision became blurry, his head incredibly heavy. 

“Желание.” One of the men beneath him started speaking and Bucky couldn’t hold back, screaming in pain and bashing the man’s face in. Though he had a helmet on, it was nothing compared to the strength in his metal arm. 

Another cloth was pressed to his mouth, along with the second word being whispered into his ear. 

The last thing he saw were figures in the distance, running towards him. Were they screaming his name?

He made brief eye contact with Steve, his muscles going against his will and becoming lax, his arms dropping to his side and his body falling to the floor. 

“Steve-”

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Вы ничего не знаете- You don't know anything. 
> 
> Ты даже себя не знаешь!- You don't even know yourself. 
> 
> Теперь ты понял- Now you understand. 
> 
> Я понимаю лучше, чем вы думаете.- I understand better than you think.


End file.
